Page 112 of The Wanted One

Brant charged Erik, and everything was a blur of movement. With my back to the balcony railing, I had nowhere to go . . . and then time stopped. I wasn’t sure where the bullet came from that struck me, but everything was going dark as the momentum propelled me over the railing. And that’s when I saw—

. . . Jack.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

JACK

The sight of Charley falling from the balcony, her eyes closing right before she went over, had my heart stopping. Running on pure adrenaline, I pushed through the room as fast as possible. Two men were lifeless on the ground, and I double-tapped the guy at my nine o’clock in the chest, leaving Brant as the only obstacle to get to Charley.

He was in the process of going for a weapon, blood staining the side of his white dress shirt. As much as I wanted to make Brant’s death painful, I didn’t have the luxury. I needed to get to Charley. Without an ounce of remorse, I shot the fucker right between the eyes before quickly maneuvering around him to get to the balcony.

Please don’t be dead. Please, God. I looked over the railing and Charley was in a pool . . . floating facedown.

The memory of Camila’s words launched me into action. Getting up onto the railing, I chucked my rifle, then made the dive into the deep end. I swam over to her as the gunfire filled the air like fireworks as my team continued to take down tangos. I grabbed hold of her with my bad arm, ignoring the shooting pain, and swam us over to the side of the pool.

Using all my strength, I hauled her out of the water and gently set her on her back. Her head rolled to the side, and she wasn’t breathing. But the pool hadn’t been colored in blood, which meant . . .

After pulling myself from the pool, I ripped open her shirt, prepared to do CPR. Oh thank fuck. I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight before me. She was still wearing the chest plate I’d asked her to put on beneath her shirt while on the flight from Ecuador. I’d completely forgotten about it. The plate had taken the hit, but the impact of the shot had still knocked her out. She’d be bruised and in pain when she came to, but . . .

Tossing the plate to the side, praying my teammates kept cover over us, I tilted her head back and sealed my mouth over hers, giving her five rescue breaths. Then I pressed down hard, a third of the depth of her chest. After thirty compressions, I gave her two more rescue breaths. I kept repeating the cycle, my body starting to shake, tears joining the pool water coating my face.

“Come on, Charley, breathe for me, sweetheart. Please,” I begged as I pushed down on her chest, trying not to hurt her, the bluish coloring on her face the last thing I wanted to see. “Please,” I choked out. “I’ll do anything. Fuuuuck, I promise. I’ll do anything.” Was I begging God to save her? I wasn’t sure, but I . . . “Just come back to me, Charley. Please,” I yelled in desperation, panic taking over.

“Jack,” someone yelled from behind me. Was that Oliver? “Jack, let me help.”

A montage of every moment Charley and I had spent together flooded my mind, nearly making me hysterical. “No, no. She’s going to be okay. HAS to be okay.” No, you’re not dying.

Just as Oliver knelt alongside me, Charley jolted and moved, and she began coughing. I quickly urged her head to the side, so she didn’t choke on the water she was spitting out. She gasped for air, her oxygen-starved lungs acting on instinct, and I broke down and sobbed at the sight of her breathing, eyelids fluttering open.

“Can I take over now?” Oliver asked, a hand on my arm. “I have to make sure—”

“Yeah,” I whispered, shifting to the side to give him room to help her while remaining on my knees near the two of them. It was eerily quiet, and I finally realized the gunfire had ceased.

“She okay?” I heard someone else call out. Or maybe they were in my ear on comms? I was too fucked up to know.

“Jack.” Charley clutched her throat, attempting to sit.

I couldn’t stop the sobs still destroying my chest as I moved over and hooked my good arm behind her back, drawing her against me.

“I think I died,” she whispered into my ear as we held each other. “You brought me back to life.”

I pulled away to see her eyes, which were still a bit red, but her color was returning to her face.

“And, Jack, maybe this is crazy, but I’m pretty sure I met your mom. Mine was there, too.” Tears flew down her face. “Your mom told me to hang in there, that you were waiting for me.”

I broke down at her words and tugged her against me. Whether it was true or not, I just, well . . . “Fuck, Charley,” I choked out, clutching her tightly, somehow believing that yeah, my mom just met the love of my life.

“Thank you for having my back out here, so I could . . .” Get my girl.

“Always, man.” Gray looked at Charley before pulling me in for a hug, careful of my shoulder.

I did my best to push aside my emotions as Mason joined us by the ambulance where Charley was being seen by a medic and shared, “Erik’s gone.”

Gray coughed into his fist for a second, discarding his emotions as well before he snapped out, “What do you mean he’s gone?”

“He was on the floor in that bedroom when I killed Brant and the other guy,” I said, unable to make sense of it. “Jordan was dead, too.”

“Erik must not have been dead, and in all the chaos he slipped away.” Mason had kept his voice low, and his expression read, Don’t shoot the messenger.

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